


A Night of Consequence (or, KiliMouse just wrote FreeCuddles)

by KiliMouse



Category: Sherlock (TV) RPF, War Horse RPF
Genre: Butt Plugs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Object Insertion, Porn with Feelings, Secret Relationship, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, Unrequited Love, Unwanted Feelings, Vibrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:59:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiliMouse/pseuds/KiliMouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He kisses Ben forcefully before he can reply, and snakes a hand down to rub across his arse, eliciting a desperate groan from Ben, who tries to rut against him. They break apart when their dinner is brought over, and Martin turns the vibrator down to its lowest setting. To anyone passing, their talk would seem nothing out of the ordinary, but every so often, Martin murmurs something like "I wonder how hard you'd be right now, if we took that thing off you. So hard, so red, begging one of us to suck you" and Tom very nearly chokes on his crouton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night of Consequence (or, KiliMouse just wrote FreeCuddles)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man. So, I keep seeing posts on about how Freeman, Cumberbatch and Hiddleston make the words Free Cuddles; I just felt this discovery necessitated porn with feelings. And cuddles. This is the result! Also, I own nobody, and this isn't claiming to be anything close to reality.

When Tom gets the call to join Martin and Benedict for dinner, he expects a lad's night out; a casual, matey dinner over which they discuss work, fans, cars, books, music, and the rumours peddled gleefully by the Daily Mail. He does not expect to be third wheeling on an intimate date of the best-kept secret romance in the business. He does not expect to sink into a seat opposite two passionately kissing men, who break apart with glazed eyes to greet him with wide and genuine smiles.  
"Tom!" beams Martin. "I'm glad you could make it. We're glad you could make it."  
"I needed a night off," smiles Tom. "Theatre is a beautiful thing, but I'm exhausted. I think I'm getting character bleed, too. Chekhov always does this to me."  
"If it's all the same, we'd much rather have you as Tom," Benedict chips in, and his foot brushes Tom's under the table. The rumble of that voice, and the frisson of attraction in the touch, makes Tom's high cheekbones tinge pink.  
"Has Ben explained any of this to you?"asks Martin, once they have ordered. Tom is bewildered, and Benedict's foot is still rubbing his own. "Clearly not. Ben, you are awful! He was supposed to tell you."  
"Tell me what?" enquires Tom. "Oh- about you two? I wish you all the best, every happiness! I had no idea you were together. You've kept it on the quiet pretty amazingly well! Is- is Amanda...?"  
Martin grinned and shook his head, and his hand slips round the other man's waist.  
"Amanda knows there is no other woman in the world for me," he says frankly. "But she also knows there are certain needs I have that she just isn't built to meet. Certain...places she can't reach, if you will."  
"Oh," says Tom. And then "ah". There seems little else he can say. He looks at Ben with wistfulness in his eyes; they hadn't progressed beyond kissing, and a frantic handjob at the wrap party for War Horse. To think that Martin... Well. Martin is an exceptionally fortunate man.  
"But no," Martin continues, "that wasn't what he was supposed to mention. I mean, we assumed you'd notice that."  
"Yes, I'm amazed no one else has," says Tom. "Not even Tumblr."  
Bendict chuckles.  
"This place is pretty exclusive," he says, nodding at their gorgeous surroundings. "And owned by friends of Ian and Mark. We're rather lucky to have it; if we went anywhere else we'd be done for!"  
"Ah, right. Well that figures. So..." Tom says.  
"We have a proposition for you." Ben's eyes sparkle as he speaks, leaning forwards and moving his foot up Tom's calf. Tom can feel his cock stirring under the table, thickening in the restrictive grey material of his suit trousers. He bites his lip. "I told Martin what happened between us. During War Horse."  
Ah, yes. The kiss, sparked by Benedict's noticeable inability to keep his eyes front during the charging scene, in which he allowed his eyes to wander, in almost every take, to the unforgiving, liquid movements of Tom's undulating hips as he rode. Afterwards, he had gone to Tom's trailer and after a few superficial discussions about re-shoots, their lips had met and Benedict had gently maneouvred the younger man to the bed, and as he dipped his warm, firm hand into Tom's trousers, someone from Makeup had rapped on the door. They didn't mention it again until the wrap party. Then, drunken and emotional, Tom had dragged Ben outside, kissed him frantically, and given him a sloppy, desperate handjob in the shadows.  
"Oh," says Tom. It is almost inaudible, and he daren't look at Martin.  
"Would you like to join us? Tonight?" asks Benedict. His eyes glaze for a moment and his breath hitches, as Martin dips a hand into his jacket pocket.  
"I- I'd be honoured," breathes Tom. "Ben, are you...?"  
Martin holds up the small remote control with a chuckle.  
"He's wearing a cock cage as well," he explains, running one finger along Benedict's jaw. "He's been on edge for hours, Tom. If you do decide to join us, you won't regret it. He's desperate. Aren't you, Benedict?"  
Benedict nods shakily.  
"Y-yes. Please, Tom," he croaks, shifting in his seat. Martin has switched the vibrating plug inside him up to the second highest setting.  
"Like I said, I'd be honoured," says Tom, eyes blown wide with lust. "I... Can I kiss him, Martin?"  
"By all means," says Martin, and makes Benedict get off his chair to go to Tom. Tom stands, cups Benedict's jaw, strokes his cheek.  
"You're so desperate," he whispers, "so beautifully needy, with that thing inside you, can't even get hard..."  
He kisses Ben forcefully before he can reply, and snakes a hand down to rub across his arse, eliciting a desperate groan from Ben, who tries to rut against him. They break apart when their dinner is brought over, and Martin turns the vibrator down to its lowest setting. To anyone passing, their talk would seem nothing out of the ordinary, but every so often, Martin murmurs something like "I wonder how hard you'd be right now, if we took that thing off you. So hard, so red, begging one of us to suck you" and Tom very nearly chokes on his crouton.  
Martin drinks his coffee with exaggerated slowness and occasionally ghosts his hand over Benedict's thigh or the controls in his pocket. Both provoke a similarly needy, breathy reaction, and eventually Martin has finished and they pay. A taxi is waiting outside, and they pile into the back of it, Tom chancing a gentle slap to Benedict's oversensitised backside as the older man climbs in ahead of him. Benedict gasps, and falls into Martin's lap, where he is held for the remainder of the journey, Martin's possessive kisses showering his neck and biting their dominance into his skin. Truly, it's a good job they have just finished filming, because marks like that are not easy to hide.  
"Look at you," Martin rasps. "Do you have any idea how fucking illegal you look right now? All spread out and begging for it." He reaches down to unzip Benedict's jeans and tug down his briefs, and Tom takes the opportunity to lean down and kiss the trapped flesh of his cock, restrained from proud hardess by leather and metal. He wetly mouths at the head, and Benedict's small scream as his tongue dips into the poor, sensitive slit earns him Martin's hand over his mouth and a glance in the mirror from the cab driver. Martin tells the man Benedict is a noisy drunk, and they tuck his cock back inside his jeans and help him into the hotel. The lift is empty except for the three of them, and Martin brings Tom down for a filthy kiss.  
"I'm glad you decided to join us," he growls, hands on Tom's neck. "Ben and I usually use the safeword BAFTA, it gets him out of the mood pretty quickly. Other than that, there are no rules. Just pleasure and pain." They alight on their floor and Benedict lets them in because it's his room they are using. Tom crowds him against the wall and bites him, forces his mouth open, and undoes the expensive blue shirt clinging to his lithe body. Well sculpted muscles glow like marble in the shadowy lamplight of the room, and Martin latches onto one erect nipple while Tom takes the other between his wet lips, and Ben gasps and arches and tangles his fingers in whoever's hair he can reach.  
"Such an eager slut," growls Martin, his hands working deftly at Benedict's jeans once more."Come on. Let's get you on the bed, sweetheart; we've got a guest to entertain."  
This seems to be the cue for Benedict to choke back his sobs and nuzzle at Tom, almost pleadingly. His hand reaches in the vague direction of Tom's crotch.  
"Let me suck your cock, please let me," he mumbles, tears bright in his eyes. "Please Tom, I want your cock, want you in my mouth, let me, please let me choke on your cock Tom..." Such words from this man, this majestic, brooding man, are unexpected, and even during their War Horse fumblings Tom had not seen this side to his co-star.  
"That's it," he says soothingly, running his hands through Benedict's dark hair- his Sherlock hair, though he would be having it re-coloured soon, ready for his next role. His is a hectic life, and Tom and Martin both realise full well that he needs this like oxygen. "Take my cock, Ben. Take it down your throat, oh yes, just like that, suck it, Ben, there's a good boy. Oh! Fuck,that feels amazing, so good. Ah, such a filthy mouth on my cock...'' He begins to rock his hips, fucking the dark-haired man's face at a gentle pace; whatever Ben said, he doesn't want to actually choke the man with his dick. Behind Benedict, Martin is deftly removing trousers and pants, both his own and Ben's, and Benedict's sobbing moan makes Tom glance to where Martin is gripping the base of the plug and working it slowly out of the pink hole, jerking himself with his other hand. Benedict shudders and gasps, rocking his arse back on the toy, fucking himself on it's shiny plastic, his jaw going slack around Tom's penis.  
"No, come on, you can do it," Tom says, stroking his face. "Be a good boy for me, Benedict. Take it all. OH!" Ben does so, his lips slick and eyes bright with tears, and Martin encourages him with harsher thrusts of the plug, and a hand on his restrained balls, the promise of imminent release.  
"You take it all, you make Tom come in your mouth, and we'll get you out of this thing," he rasps, and Benedict cries out as a thumb presses against his cock. "You like it, don't you. You like the pain?" He rubs his thumb against the abused flesh, over the slit, and seeing Benedict's body quivering and shaking with the stimulation makes Tom climax with a shout and a thrust. Benedict pulls off with a pop, saliva and semen running down his chin, and Tom manages, in his haze of pleasure, to slide down to his level and kiss the taste of his own come from Ben's wet mouth.  
"You did so well," he whispers, hand running through the curls. "Such a good boy, so good for me."  
Benedict croaks out a humble thankyou and Tom slumps back to watch Martin release his cock and balls, the former of which is already dribbling pre-come and trying to get hard. Benedict is on all fours, and as his cock fills with blood, it hangs heavy and needy between his legs, twitching as Martin slowly drags the buttplug right out and teases his entrance with his finger.  
"All slick and stretched for me," he says approvingly. "Ready for Tom, too, when he's recovered."  
With this, he slips a condom over himself and lines up, easing himself inside Benedict's body. Benedict gasps, rocks backwards, and stiffens as Martin hits his sweet spot.  
"You're so needy," Martin breathes, "so turned on. I bet you could come from this alone, not a hand on your cock, hmm? Just me, rubbing your little bundle of nerves, fucking your pert little arse, using you like Tom used you?"  
"Yesyesyes please," gasps Ben. "Fuck me, use me, please come in me, I'm so hard for you.”  
He doesn't last long. Martin has been deliberately teasing and edging him since the afternoon, when he fucked him with a dildo in the shower and plugged him before he'd come, and Benedict's balls draw up within minutes. He stares Tom straight in the eye as he grits his teeth and comes, loudly and with an unintelligible shout, and as soon as he’s spurted the last string of milky fluid across the bed, he collapses, just missing the wet patch, and sobs exhaustedly into the duvet. Martin’s façade drops in an instant; he is suddenly all over the taller man, whispering comforting things to him, petting his hair, kissing his nose, inviting Tom over to curl up with him and Benedict, and help him bring Ben back to reality.  
“I love you,” Tom hears Benedict whisper, at last. He opens his eyes and looks blearily at the two men forming a warm, protective bubble around him. “And thank you, Tom.” Tom tries not to let the pangs of emotion he feels at these words get to him; after all, he knows Martin and Benedict are in a relationship, and clearly deeply in love. He couldn’t expect Ben to extend that love to him. The fact that he’d been allowed to join at all was a huge privilege… But he couldn’t help feeling a sort of emptiness, a sense that he wanted more.  
He falls asleep shortly after. There will be consequences, he thinks wearily, and he doesn’t know what will happen next, but lying with Ben and Martin in a warm embrace is nice for now. Love may have a high price, he thinks sleepily, but at least cuddles are free.


End file.
